


The Screams of the Lost

by Moonrose91



Series: Three Hundred Years of Being Forgotten (Mostly) [21]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen, shouting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The voice ringing back across the clearing cannot be his, but it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Screams of the Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this took so long.

Jack spins his staff around in his hand, watching the children play in the snow he had lain down especially for them.

Each flake he had created, in the perfection of the first snowfall of the season.

He had made each with care he usually reserved only for his frost decorations, and making everything look sugar coated, just so he could give them the first perfect snow of the season.

And he did it with each new place, each new snow, the first of the season everywhere. The beginning of winter for each place that got snow. He made it perfect and crisp. And sometimes it wasn’t much, it was just the finest dusting, but at the same time, it was still the perfect snow.

Jack smiled at the laughter that echoed up as the snow drifted down.

He carefully tapped one of the snowflakes with his finger and then flicked it towards one of the children that sat to the side, somber and sad, only to earn a small laugh. And then he was up and running to the group.

Jack didn’t have a chance to move to the side before he was run straight through.

He staggered a bit, using his staff to keep himself from collapsing to the ground and gripped his chest.

It _hurt_ , hurt worse this time, and he hunkered down slightly, the snow shifting from the perfect snow he tried so hard to create to the sad mournful flakes that came recently with his emotions.

Chyou had said that this would get worse with time.

Jack just stared at the snow and he suddenly leapt up onto the North Wind’s back, who quickly sped him away. They raced through the air, hiding Jack’s tears that welled up and spilled back, the fine ice drops flitting about through the air in the wind’s sharp strike and still they raced on, pushing past and beyond everything they could reach.

Eventually, Jack landed on the frozen lake he called home and stared up at the moon that hung in the sky. It was bright and full, soft and Jack felt as if it was weighing down on him.

He still felt the distant ache of the boy who had run through him.

He still felt as if his entire existence had been blown apart before being set back into place, but not properly. As if something was still broken within him. He stared at the moon and suddenly, something snapped.

He let out a scream of rage, and he does not know what else it could be.

He screams and he shouts and the Wind _howls_ around him, as if that will make everything better. The snow snaps up, his coat flutters madly in the cutting breeze, and he feels something sharp strike his cheek, but he doesn’t care as he feels himself forming words.

He’s shouting and he doesn’t even know what he is saying.

He is screaming and he doesn’t know why.

And then his rage is gone and he just slumps onto the ground in the middle of the snow covered lake, curling in on himself as he sobs, ice drops falling into the snow, as each sob is punctuated by one word.

_Why?_

He continues to sob, his chest tearing itself apart, shaking apart at the seams, clinging to his staff as if it is the only thing keeping him sane, and he wants Sandy to be there, he wants someone, anyone, to be there and hold him and tell him that it will all be okay in the end.

All he has is the moon, shining down.

Shining down on his bowed and beaten form, because he does not think he can take this lonliness anymore. He does not think he can take the pain of being walked through anymore.

His voice is a whisper now, broken and shaking, as he continues to ask why.

Why is he like this?

Why does he have no one else?

Why won’t the Moon answer him?

Why is he being punished?


End file.
